


Love Me Tender

by Yikes_Writes



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Boys In Love, M/M, One Shot Collection, Soft Billy Hargrove, Soft Steve Harrington
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yikes_Writes/pseuds/Yikes_Writes
Summary: Billy and Steve are in love.-Unrelated oneshots of soft boys being soft.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 9
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Billy always thought falling in love would be like the movies.

There’d be rain, and he’d deliver a dramatic monologue, only to go scoop up his love and run into the sunset.

Or he’d realize a minute too late, and have to dramatically run through the airport to tell the person he’s in love, only to find out the plane has left, but it’s okay because they never got on.

Or there’d be a big montage in his head of all their sweetest moments, going to flower shops and picnics in the park. His feelings hitting him sideways and making his head spin.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

It was just Steve, sitting at the kitchen table in Billy’s tiny apartment, his head propped up with one hand as he fed himself cold leftover spaghetti with the other like it wasn’t eight in the morning.

His hair was messy, sticking out in every direction, and he kept dozing off, starling himself awake only to eat another bite and nearly fall asleep again.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, his big glasses he never wore in public, and a glob of pasta sauce on his chest, and Billy has never loved anything more.

_Huh_.

He loves Steve.

It was a nice feeling.

Not huge and overwhelming.

Just warm. Spreading through his whole body.

It made him smile at Steve over his coffee while Steve nearly fell asleep again and almost face-planted into his breakfast pasta.

Made him say _baby, just go back to bed if you’re this tired_. Made him laugh as Steve blinked slowly at him, pasta hanging out of his mouth, cheeks bulging from doing that thing where he takes too big a bite and only swallows about half of it before taking another.

It made him follow Steve back to bed after depositing his empty plate in the sink. It made him curl up as close as possible to Steve, touch him as much as he possibly could.

It made him prop himself up on his elbow as Steve slept, his mouth hanging open, his leg occasionally twitching.

It didn’t feel like a movie.

But it felt right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

> Steve’s house has,, an _odd_ lay out.
> 
> Billy’s is just rooms all in a row, a kitchen a living room, a hallway. Two bedrooms, a bathroom. Master bedroom, master bathroom. Unfinished basement.
> 
> That’s it.
> 
> But Steve’s, Billy could get lost in there.
> 
> He had two, _two_ , living rooms. One was for television and the other was just for show. A _sitting room_ , Steve had said. There was a dining area off the kitchen, _and_ a formal dining room. Complete with oil painting of the Harrington family and a big mahogany table.
> 
> Then there was the rec room downstairs, a bar built into the wall, soft couches and a _huge_ 35 inch t.v. There was a dart board and a billiards table, and every time the two of them tried to play pool, they ended up fucking on it instead.
> 
> The master bedroom is unlike anything Billy’s ever seen.
> 
> It was _enormous_ , had it’s own fireplace and two walk in closets. And the en suite bathroom was bigger than Billy’s whole bedroom. Billy liked the bathtub, liked that they could both fit in it.
> 
> And Mr. Harrington’s study.
> 
> Billy only liked going in it when he was a little bit drunk, when the thrill of defiling that perfect son on that perfect oak desk outweighed the nagging fear of _somehow_ getting Steve into trouble.
> 
> The upstairs was all guest rooms, three of them with two bathrooms. Steve had his own bathroom.
> 
> Steve’s room was weird to Billy.
> 
> He was expecting, _more_.
> 
> Even his own room had some personality in it, had Metallica posters and hot chicks plastered up.
> 
> Steve had plaid.
> 
> Lots and _lots_ of plaid.
> 
> But then there was _more_ to this house.
> 
> There was _another_ upstairs, like someone had just tacked another house right on top.
> 
> The upper rooms were mostly unfinished, attic space used for storage.
> 
> Labeled containers of Steve’s baby things, furniture that had been moved out of rotation, holiday decorations Mr. Harrington paid someone else to put up.
> 
> But there was one attic room that Steve had claimed for his own, made it a little nest.
> 
> The couch was worn, apparently had been in the rec room for some time. The television was small, and fizzed out a lot, but there was a decent record collection, and some books, and-
> 
> _Here it was_.
> 
> This is where Steve kept his personality.
> 
> There were old baseball trophies and love letters from girls. There were lewd drawings and shitty poems and worn out journals.
> 
> He had tacked up posters, everything from Queen to Prince to Trooper to the Grateful Dead. He had taped pictures and Polaroids to the walls, tiny Steve and Tommy covered in mud, a young Carol wearing a pissed-off expression. There were even some of Billy now, some blurry ones from parties, a dimly lit one Billy had clumsily taken, Steve asleep in his lap.
> 
> There were hand knitted blankets and skeins of yarn ready to create more.
> 
> There was cheap liquor and probably eight different bongs.
> 
> It was Billy’s favorite room in the whole weird house.
> 
> It felt _lived in_ , not just for show like the formal dining room, the sitting room, the master bedroom.
> 
> The room had a soul.
> 
> And it felt _safe_ , felt like the safest place in the whole world as they curled up on the couch, swearing whenever the t.v. fizzed out too much for them to see what was happening.
> 
> It’s where Billy felt safe enough to talk about his dad, to cry about his mom. Where he felt safe enough to pull Steve to standing, and dance with him like they were at some lame cotillion. It’s where Steve’s laugh sounded the clearest, where Billy heard the words _I love you_ for the first time and _actually_ believed them. It’s where Billy saw Steve cry for the first time, stoned out of his mind and wailing about how he was a disappointment, how he would amount to nothing.
> 
> It’s where Billy realized he was in love. Realized he would probably never feel the same visceral adoration for _anyone_ other than Steve.
> 
> It’s where Billy ended up proposing.
> 
> As they were tangled together on the old couch, naked and sweaty and out of breath. Only a few hours since Billy had been handed his high school diploma.
> 
> Where he said, _run away with me_ and _for forever, Pretty Boy_ and _never gonna love anything like I love you_.
> 
> And that’s about as close as they could get to anything legal.
> 
> And everywhere they lived together, every dilapidated apartment, and tiny house, Billy made sure the whole place felt the way that attic did, felt as safe and warm and _blissfully happy_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A season 3 au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

“Where the _fuck_ is Dustin!” Mike was jittery.

It was getting close to the end of Billy’s shift.

They had everything set up for the sauna test, but they were missing their one key ingredient.

“Steve only got off work like, five minutes ago. They’ll need a minute to drive here,” Max shot back at him.

Nobody was completely sure why El had been _so_ insistent on Steve being a part of this.

“I still don’t know why we need adult supervision,” Lucas was ready with his wrist rocket.

“Steve can help.” El was staring into the sauna.

“Look, I know he’s been dragged into all this shit before, but he’s not the most _competent_ pers-” Lucas was cut off by the sound of the locker room door opening, Dustin’s voice and the squeak of sneakers.

Steve looked pissed off as he came into view.

“Henderson has _refused_ to tell me _why_ I had to rush _all the way_ over here after an _eight hour_ shift-”

“We think Billy’s possessed by the Mind Flayer.” It was almost funny, how quickly Steve went slack jawed at Max’s words.

But he steeled his face.

“What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to lock him in the sauna, try to get it out.” Steve stared at Will.

“Lock me in with him.”

“Steve, Buddy, he’ll kill you. And if he doesn’t, you’ll die of heat exhaustion.” Steve wasn’t listening to Dustin, was stripping off his shoes and socks, his blue shirt until he was left in his shorts and stripped undershirt.

“It’s not a negotiation. Lock me in there with him. I can get it out.” He was looking intensely at El. She nodded once.

Steve stood in front of the sauna as the rest of the kids got into position.

He looked like he was gonna be sick.

They could hear Billy, taunting and jeering as he made his way closer.

And then he stepped into view.

“Stevie, you here for a little, after work _fun_.”

Steve waited until he got close enough, grabbing Billy and slamming them both into the sauna.

The kids acted quickly, locking them inside.

They watched through the tiny window as Billy easily pinned Steve to the tiled floor.

“What the _fuck?”_ Billy looked _wild_.

He stepped off of Steve, pounding on the door.

The kids all took a few steps back.

“Open! The! Door!”

“Bill,” Billy went eerily still at Steve’s voice. The heat in the sauna was rising steadily, nearing the red area. “It’s okay.”

And then Billy collapsed, the heat in the room becoming too much.

He shrieked, writhing on the ground as the kids watched, Steve dropping to his knees by his side, hands fluttering about.

And then, it all just, stopped.

“Stevie, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, _it’s not my fault_ -”

“Billy, I believe you. It’s okay, you just gotta, just talk to me, Baby, okay?”

Max took in a sharp breath. Lucas turned to Mike, mouthing _Baby?_

“It’s not my fault, Steve, I promise you it’s not my fault.”

“Just tell me, what’s not your fault?”

“I’ve done things, Steve, really, _bad_ things, and I-I didn’t _mean to-_ he, he made me do it.”

“Who made you do it?” Billy crumbled into himself.

“I don’t know, it’s like a _shadow_ , like a giant shadow. Please, Steve.”

“What did he make you do?” Steve was combing his fingers through Billy’s wet hair.

“It’s not my fault!” Everyone jumped at Billy’s outburst, his sudden yell. “Okay, Steve? Please! Please believe me, Steve! It’s not my fault! I tried to stop him, okay? I did!” He had dissolved into sobs, his head in Steve’s lap.

It was surreal, watching big bad Billy Hargrove sob into another boy’s lap, clutching at Steve’s blue shorts and _begging_.

“Billy, I believe you. It’s okay, we _all_ believe you. We’ve dealt with this thing before, okay? We’re gonna help you. Just, just focus on me. Think about, about the first time we hung out, okay? You came over, and you made that shitty apology, but I let you inside, and we got way too drunk, and we made out for _hours_ until I had to go puke my guts out and you made fun of me all night.”

Will was pale.

They don’t know if Steve thought they couldn’t hear him, or if he just didn’t care anymore.

“Or, or the first time we went to the quarry, and I fell asleep in the Camaro, and you brought me home and carried me inside.”

Billy’s body was still shaking as he cried.

“Think about, about the first time- _our_ first time. And, and how you kept saying you wanted to make it _special_ and I kept making fun of you, but, but we _did it_ , and, and we laid together all night after.”

Steve glanced up at the kids.

His face was red, his hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck.

He looked back down to Billy.

“Think about the first time that I told you I loved you. And how I thought I was gonna drive you away being too clingy, and you said, you just said it back.”

So this was, this was _serious_ , this was _real_.

Dustin looked like he could pass out. Will was chewing his bottom lip to shreds.

And then Billy sat up, slowly, and fucking _creepily_.

He looked at Steve.

“Pretty Boy,” Steve smiled at him.

And then he lunged.

He clapped one hand in front of Steve’s nose and mouth, preventing him from breathing.

He held the back of his head with the other.

Steve was _panicking_ , trying to claw at Billy’s arms.

Dustin yelled, going for the padlock on the door, but Will stopped him, his hand wrapping around Dustin’s wrist.

“No, just, just _wait_. Billy’s fighting him, _it_ , and he’s, he’s _winning_.”

And then Billy’s head snapped back, and thick black smoke erupted from his mouth and nose.

The fog couldn’t escape the sauna, and they watched, _disgusted_ , as it became viscous, as it turned into sludge on the ground, settling onto the tile like ash.

Billy let go of Steve as the kids scrambled to get the sauna open.

Dustin and Lucas went to drag Steve out, Mike helping Max with Billy.

El crouched down, running one finger through the ash.

“It’s dead.” She held up her finger. “This part of it. It’s dead. Too hot.”

Max slumped Billy against the wall, but he moved forward, crawling weakly to where Steve was gasping for breath.

“’m sorry.” Steve blindly flopped one hand out, grasping Billy’s forearm. “Didn’t want it going to you.” He let his head drop onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve patted his head clumsily.

“Just, just warn a guy next time.” He was all breathy.

“Wait so, if you two are like _together_ , why didn’t you know he was _possessed_?” Max kicked at Steve’s shin.

“We’re in a fight.” Steve looked like a petulant child, glaring up at her.

“Jesus, what even _about_?”

Steve was silent for a moment. And then he started laughing, all wheezy and painful.

“I don’t even _remember_! Bill, what were we fighting about?”

“Sugar, it’s a damn miracle I remember my own name right now.” They both laughed, heaped and sweaty on the floor of the locker room.

“So, are you going to _explain_ anything? Like the fact that you’re _gay_?” Dustin sounded like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Steve waved a hand at him.

“Gimme a minute. It’s been a _very_ long few days.” Billy pinched his side.

“Says _you_. I was _possessed_. You’ve just been _pouting_.”

Steve lolled his head over to pout at Billy, who still had his head buried in Steve’s shoulder.

“Quit it. I can fuckin’ _feel_ those doe eyes.” Steve just laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very tender smut, but begins with some Neil aftermath.
> 
> -
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

Billy doesn’t really talk on nights like these. 

Nights when he shows up at Steve’s back door, his face four different shades of hurting, his back bruised from _whatever_ he was shoved into this time. 

He lets Steve flutter about, lets him clean his wounds and press kisses to his skin and hold ice against his swollen eye. 

He lets Steve get angry on his behalf, lets him get _sad_ on his same behalf. 

Later, he’ll joke how Steve goes through the full five stages of grief every time Billy comes to him after a run-in with Neil. Steve won’t laugh. 

But for now, Billy just sits quietly, let’s Steve do his work. 

Steve closes the first aid kit with a snap, sighing as he bends to return it under the sink. 

Billy watches his every move. 

If his dad’s gonna hit him for being a queer, might as well indulge. 

He stands up quietly, presses himself against Steve’s back when he stands again. 

He plants dry kisses to the side of his neck, eyes fluttering closed as he breathes in his smell, expensive shampoo and a little bit of sweat. 

Steve just sinks one hand into thick curly hair, turns his head to kiss Billy’s temple.

“Bed?” 

Billy doesn’t say anything, lets his tongue lave against Steve’s neck a bit, and that’s answer enough. 

Steve tugs his wrist, minding the fingerprints already purpling under his skin. 

Steve’s room is the safest place Billy’s ever been. 

It’s always a little messy, dirty clothes on the floor, bed unmade. 

But it smells like Steve, and the bed his soft and Steve is a grounding weight on top of him, and his lips are plush, and it’s _easy_ , easy to tug at Steve’s clothes, brush fingers over taught muscles and smooth skin, easy to track brown moles with tender kisses, easy to sink slick fingers into tight heat and forget about the world that hates them. 

He was on his knees, sitting back on his heels, Steve piled in his lap.

Steve was moving slowly, panting into Billy’s neck. 

Sweat dribbled down his back as Billy clung onto his ribs for dear life. 

He moved his hips to meet Steve’s, lightly pressing together. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathed against his ear. He pulled back a little, connecting their lips. 

Billy knew he was close. He liked to kiss when he came. 

“I love you.” The words were soft against Billy’s lips, fed into his mouth,, into his soul. “I love you, Billy.”

Billy bucked his hips, crying out as he finished inside of Steve, his heart pounding against his rib cage. 

Steve was breathing heavily, his spunk dripping between them. 

He didn’t expect to hear it back. Had made peace with that. Just wanted Billy to _know_. 

And really, Billy already _did_ know, knew by the way Steve took care of him, got angry, got _sad_ on his behalf. The way he let Billy go nonverbal and smiled at him when his knuckles were bloody. 

Yeah, Billy knew. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY tender smut
> 
> -
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

One finger didn’t feel much like anything. 

Steve had his knees bent, feet planted on the bed on either side of Billy, his hips propped up with a pillow. 

Billy was looking at him intently, one finger sliding slowly in and out of him. 

“You okay for another?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, kept reminding himself to relax. 

Two fingers felt like _something_. 

The stretch burned a bit, but the more Steve breathed, the better it got. 

Billy licked up his cock. 

Three fingers _hurt_.

“Wait, too- _too much_.”

Billy pulled out the third finger, the other two still inside Steve.

“You want me to keep going with two for a while, or do you wanna stop?” Steve bit his lip, fisting the sheets below him. “Okay.” 

Billy carefully removed his fingers, pressing a kiss to Steve’s inner thigh. 

“I never said we had to stop.”

“Yeah, but you also never said you wanted to keep going.” Billy curled up behind Steve, tossing the pillow that had been underneath Steve away. 

He was still hard, his dick prodding into Steve’s asscheek. 

“Sorry we couldn’t-”

“No need to apologize, Sugar. We’ll just take it a bit slower, yeah? Want you to feel _good_.”

-

They had done _other stuff_. Had jerked each other off, blew one another, Billy had even fucked Steve’s thighs a few times. 

But the idea of full-on _fucking_ , Steve didn’t really _realize_ that’s how it worked with two guys. 

Until Billy had manhandled him into his lap, until they watched a rented porno on the television in the rec room, Billy jerking Steve _slowly_ while he muttered filth into his ear. 

“Wanna take you _just_ like that. Make you cum with your legs over your head, nothing but my cock in your ass.”

Steve gasped and shuddered as he came. 

The first time Billy fingered him, Steve didn’t totally notice it was happening. 

Billy had Steve’s cock in his throat, on his knees in the shower, and Steve was too focused on those lips wrapped around him to notice one finger slipping _just_ past his tight ring of muscle. 

Until Billy curled his finger, and Steve shot off down his throat. 

-

“Gonna take you _just_ like this.”

Billy was spooned behind Steve again, one hand reached around to stroke his dick, the other wrapped under Steve, palm flat on his chest. 

Steve was all slick between his legs, Billy must have used half the bottle of lube, said he liked it _wet and messy_. 

He was fucking between Steve’s legs, his cock hard as he thrust against Steve’s ass, pressing against his balls. 

Occasionally, he would slip out, press his cock between Steve’s cheeks, moan in his ear as he fucked his crack. 

It made Steve’s stomach tighten. 

He _wanted_ , wanted to get past that moment of pain so that they could do this _properly_. 

But that moment of pain always felt like _Hell_ when it was happening, left him sore and aching all the next day.

-

Steve’s breaths were shaky. 

He had never done this before, always felt a little, a little _gross_ doing it to himself. 

He covered his fingers in _lots_ of lube. 

Two fingers were pretty easy now. 

He was used to the bit of stretch they brought, and his body gave easily for them. 

He wasn’t even hard, not doing this to get himself off, trying to make it _work_. 

He slid his two fingers in and out, let his body relax completely. 

He spread them a tiny bit, wincing slightly. 

It was, it wasn’t _great_ , but it was okay. He spread them a bit more. 

It was getting _better_. 

He slid in a third. 

The pain was there, but it wasn’t as bad as usual. He celebrated momentarily, before remembering he was spread out on his bed, t-shirt rucked up around his ribs, shorts still around one ankle, three fingers up his ass. 

It almost made him laugh, the hard _turn_ his life had taken. 

If Steve from junior year, bitchy little brat thinkin’ he was God’s gift to mankind, could see him now. 

Absolute cockslut. 

He called it good for the night, pulled his shorts back on and rolled onto his stomach. 

Billy _definitely_ had more than a three finger dick, he was thick enough to make Steve’s jaw ache, but getting to three in the first place was enough of a feat that Steve felt pretty okay. 

-

“I wanna try.”

Steve was back in Billy’s lap, their hips grinding together, both of them hard. Billy already had a wet spot on the front of his jeans. 

“You sure?” Billy never really stopped kissing when he talked. Steve doesn’t know how he does it, ask him a coherent question with his tongue halfway to Steve’s tonsils. 

“Yeah. Been fingering myself.” Billy’s dick gave a _visible_ kick in his jeans at that. It made Steve’s chest heat up. “Every night. Take as many fingers as I can while thinking about your cock.” Billy groaned. He was bucking his hips faster. 

But Steve really _did_ wanna get fucked tonight. 

He rose higher onto his knees, cutting off the friction of his own pelvis. Billy’s hands tighten on his hips. 

“I’m serious, Bill. I think I can take you.”

“Then lead the way, Darlin’.” 

Steve flushed, holding Billy’s hand as he led him upstairs. 

It felt really, _real_. 

He was gonna get _fucked_. 

Billy was on him the second they reached Steve’s room. 

He pushed his hands up his body, tossing Steve’s shirt somewhere _else_. 

They scrambled to undress one another, Steve not even _shocked_ at Billy’s lack of underwear. 

Billy just tugged him onto the bed, both of them grinding and panting. 

And then Billy’s hand went lower. 

Steve had already prepped himself a little bit. 

He wanted Billy to finger him still, kinda liked the idea of _being fingered_ , felt like a tenth grade girl whispering with her friends about _third base_. 

Billy slid one of his fingers in, moaning at the easy glide. 

“You do all the work for me already?”

“Just a little bit. Gonna need some more if we want _this_ ,” he stroked over Billy’s cock, made him choke on a groan, “to fit.”

Billy slid in another finger, massaging Steve’s insides. 

He curled them, spread them, made Steve writhe and moan, made his cock drip between them. 

He pressed in a third finger. 

This is _usually_ where is became too much for Steve, and Billy moved slowly, filling him up. 

He pressed in _deep_ , searching for that-

“ _Oh_.”

Billy grinned against Steve’s lips, digging his fingers against his prostate. 

“I-what, what _is that_?”

“Your g-spot.” Steve had gone limp on top of Billy, his face in Billy’s neck, breathing heavily into his skin. 

“I don’t-”

“It’s your prostate. Basically a g-spot.” Billy dug his fingers in a little rougher, made Steve arch his back, bucking his hips back onto Billy’s fingers. 

“I’m, I think I’m gonna cum.” 

And right in that moment, Billy wanted _nothing more_ that to watch Steve fall apart with only his _fingers_ in his ass. 

“Go ahead, Baby. So pretty when you cum.” 

He shakily thrust his hips, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers, panting little _uh, uh, uh_ s into Billy’s neck. 

His spunk was hot and sticky on Billy’s stomach, and he shuddered when Billy pulled his fingers out. 

“You feel good?” Steve just nodded lazily. 

“Still wanna take you.” His voice was muffled, but his words made Billy sigh and roll them over. 

Steve’s eyes were hazy, and he tracked two fingers through the cum drying on Billy’s stomach, sucking them into his mouth. 

Billy lined up, watching Steve’s face. 

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” 

He eased his way in. Steve was pliant after his orgasm, took Billy better than any other time they had tried. 

He breathed deeply, kept himself lose and relaxed as Billy pushed in. 

It hurt a little, but once Billy was fully sheathed, sitting still and staring at Steve, the pain began to subside. 

“Fuck me.”

Billy groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“ _So hot_ , hearing you say that.” He drew his hips back, punching the air out of Steve’s lungs as he sank back in. “Not gonna last very long. Feel _so good_.” He draped himself over Steve, pressing their bodies together. 

He scraped his teeth along the sensitive skin of Steve’s neck. 

“So fucking _tight_.”

It was _a lot_ , Billy’s full weight on top of his, his cock heavy and _thick_ in his ass. 

“You okay?” Billy’s words were almost slurred.

“Yeah. Feels _good_. Want you to, want you to cum in me.”

Billy fucking _whined_ at that, his hips bucking a little bit faster. 

“C’mon, Bill. Fill me up. Want you to cum in my ass.” Steve was never really _good_ at the whole _dirty talk_ thing. Nancy didn’t really like it and nobody could eclipse _Billy’s_ filthy mouth, but Billy’s cock was twitching inside him, and he was _close_ , and Steve _wanted_ to feel his cum dripping out of his hole. “Want to feel you dripping out of me. Want to feel used and _ruined_.”

Billy cried out, biting down on Steve’s neck harshly, sucking a mark into the skin there. 

Steve could _feel_ Billy’s cum, hot and wet inside of him. 

Billy just laid on him, panting heavily, his cock softening inside Steve. 

“ _Fuck_.” He pushed onto his elbows, smiling softly down at Steve. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, that was _good_.” Billy kissed his cheek. 

And then he moved to roll off Steve, and he felt cum and lube, sticky and _so wet_ dripping out of his hole. 

He felt _filthy_. 

He _loved it_. 

Billy returned with a wet cloth, _lovingly_ cleaning up Steve’s ass, admiring how puffy, how _abused_ his hole looked. 

He wanted to rail Steve, to take him _rough_ , make him squirm and cry out and cum dry on his cock. He wanted to make Steve ride him on shaking legs, wanted to cum in him again and again and plug him up, keep him _full_. 

But then Steve stretched lazily, and flopped with _zero_ grace under the bed covers, and looked over his shoulder at Billy, and suddenly Billy wanted it to be like that every time, slow and _soft_ , just making Steve feel _good,_ ending with a gentle clean up and a _well aren’t you gonna snuggle with me?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@yikesharringrove](https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/)!

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to be warm.

That’s what Billy’s decided.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to be gifted hand-knitted hats, mittens, and socks. It’s to be given expensive sweaters with a _don’t want you to be cold, Bill. This isn’t California_.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to be fed spoonfuls of homemade soup. To eat cookies made from scratch and pasta from a recipe older than both boys. To feel a hot mug of coffee being pressed into his hand and knowing it’s brewed the _exact_ way Billy likes it.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to under three different blankets. Tangled together, pressed loser than anyone before. To share secrets in the dark and share body heat while they share their hearts.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to lay in front of a fire. Stretched out on a hearth rug, sweaty where hot skin touches hot skin, with no intention of moving.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to flush at words like _you’re beautiful_ and _I love you_ and _you mean the world to me_. To feel fire deep in his gut when he says _I never knew love until you, Bill_.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to bask in the sun. To lay in the grass without a care in the world, hands intertwined and the knowledge forever.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to hear his laugh. The one he doesn’t show others, the one that’s too loud or the one that ends in a snort or the smile that’s too wide. The nonsensical jokes and the songs he makes up just to make Billy smile.

To be loved by Steve Harrington is to be warm. To live in Billy’s own personal sunshine. To be taken care of and happy.

And just so _warm_.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve thought he knew what love was like. 

He falls in love almost everyday. 

With strangers on the bus, anyone that holds the door open for him, misshapen vegetables at the grocery store, the lumpy little pumpkins that nobody ever buys. 

And he thought he knew what _being_ loved felt like. 

That when Nancy said the words, or let him hold her hand, or gave him a secret little smile in the library, that _that_ was love. 

But it wasn’t. 

And Steve was still _so_ full of love. 

For her, and her family, and her warm house, and her smarts, and the way she would chew on her pencil when she was studying. 

And she didn’t love him back. 

She didn’t love any of his little quirks, or his offbeat sense of humor, or _anything_ about him. 

And Steve was starting to feel like a lumpy little pumpkin himself. 

Starting to feel like he’d never feel the love of someone else. 

That nobody would take him home. That nobody would want him. 

He wasn’t holding out much hope for Billy, to be honest. 

He knew how _he_ felt. He knew he was ridiculously head over heels for the guy. He was so in love he’d uproot his whole life for Billy. 

So he did. 

Followed him to California. 

Because Billy not only _let him_ , he welcomed Steve along. 

And Steve was still cautious. Still had one foot ready to step out the door. 

Because Billy wasn’t one to give love _freely_. 

Not like Steve did. 

Until a chocolate eclair. 

In a crinkly paper bag on the kitchen counter. 

Because as Billy was walking home, he walked past a bakery. 

And thought of Steve. 

_I know they’re your favorite, and you always eat ‘em real cute. Get chocolate all over your face_. 

And there was no turning back. 

Steve was _in love_. 

And he let himself fall. 

Because nobody had ever remembered his favorite dessert before. Nobody had ever been walking past a store and thought of him, and went in to _buy him something_. 

And that must mean something. 

And then it was autumn. And the leaves in California don’t change colors like they do back in Hawkins, but the grocery stores start putting out bags of candy and Halloween decor. 

Including big displays of pumpkins. 

_We should get a few for the apartment_ , Steve had said. 

And Billy said _I always like the lumpy ones. I think they’re cute. And people don’t really buy them, which makes me sad. Lumpy pumpkins need lovin’ too._

And Steve nearly started crying _right there_ in the grocery store. 

Instead he just smiled at Billy. 

_I love you_. 

Billy stared at him. 

Those were big words for both boys. 

Big and huge and so far, _meaningless_. 

But not when Steve said them. 

Not when Billy bit his bottom lip, concealing a shy smile and said _I love you too._


	8. Chapter 8

Steve doesn’t own a pair of gloves. 

No. 

But he _does_ have an extensive collection of _mittens_. 

All different colors, all different patterns, all different materials. _Hundreds_ of them, probably. 

Billy noticed in early November. 

Steve came into school, his cheeks pink from the biting cold outside, his coat buttoned up to his chin. 

He tried to open his locker with one of his little blue mitten hands, swore loudly and pulled the mitten off, holding it in his teeth while he worked the combination. 

But Billy assume it was a one off. 

Until the next day. 

When Steve did the _exact same thing_. Except the mittens were now _red_. 

Every single cold day, Steve wore mittens to school. _Drove_ to school wearing his mittens. 

His stupid fucking _mittens_ that Billy couldn’t get out of his head. 

It was just so _cute_. 

Watching him juggle a thermos, holding it with both hands. Because he had no grip. 

Because of the _mittens_. 

Billy saw him smoking while wearing them once. He would awkwardly hold the cigarette with his thumb and, potentially middle finger? Billy couldn’t quite tell. 

Because of the goddamn _mittens_. 

Steve was wearing mittens the day Billy _finally_ apologized to him for the fight. 

They were mustard yellow. 

He patted Billy’s arm and then struggled to open his car door for a moment. 

He was wearing mittens the first time they kissed, cupped Billy’s face softly in both mittened hands. 

Those ones had been mint green. 

He could _never_ get in the Camaro if he was wearing mittens. Just the grip of the door handle was too much for those suckers. So Billy would have to open the passenger door for a _very_ smug Steve, usually grumble about Steve’s _stupid fucking paws_ as he trudged around the front of the car to slide into the drivers side. 

Steve would laugh. 

_What you got against my mittens?_

_Babies sleep in mittens to they don’t scratch themselves. Just wear gloves like grown up._

But Billy secretly _loved_ Steve’s mittens. 

They were all so soft and warm, all so well-loved and just so very _cute_. The way Steve would ball up his hands in them, until he just had soft little mitten paws, the way he would hold Billy’s hand so awkwardly with them on, the way he would get playfully frustrated when he failed to do a menial task like open a beer or change the tape in Billy’s car. 

And for the first time since arriving in Hawkins, Billy almost didn’t _want_ the weather to change. 

Almost didn’t _want_ Steve to put away his little mittens for the season. 

Because for the rest of Billy’s life, winter would mean kisses that taste like hot chocolate spiked with Schnapps, and snowflakes catching in Steve’s eyelashes, and laying bare by a roaring fire. 

And it would mean stupid little mittens.


	9. Chapter 9

Billy closed the front door behind him, the pine wreath jiggling as the door swung shut.

He took off his boots, leaving them next to Steve’s wet snow boots, smiling down and rolling his eyes fondly at the fancy fur-lined things.

He could hear Steve in the kitchen, no doubt on the phone.

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. No, I don’t mind. Yeah. Mom, seriously, it’s alright. Just, uh, enjoy the trip. I’ll-yes. Yeah. I’m good! Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. Alright, love you too. Yep. Bye now. Of course. Yeah. Okay. Talk soon.”

He was leaned against the wall next to the mounted phone, his back to the entryway.

He was twisting the cord around his wrist.

Billy liked to imagine Steve doing that whenever they spoke on the phone. Liked to imagine him twirling the chord around and blushing and getting all gooey.

Mostly because Steve was always so damn _rigid_ when he spoke with his parents. So anxious and stiff.

He shook his hand free, placing the phone back on the hook and sighing deeply.

And then he sniffed.

Billy wrapped his arms around him from behind, and Steve didn’t waste a moment before leaning back against him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What was your mom talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” Steve took a deep breath, turning in his arms to wrap his own arms around Billy’s shoulders, giving him his best attempt at a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

Steve leaned forward, ready to press his lips to Billy’s, only to have Billy lean back, avoiding him completely. He pouted at Billy.

“Tell me what’s up. Then you get a kiss.”

Steve’s pout just went deeper. Billy liked to pretend he was immune to those goddamn doe eyes. He absolutely was not.

“It’s _nothing_. Really.”

“Nah, your parents are being shitty again, and I wanna know about it so I can make you feel better.”

And Steve melted, just a little bit at that.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Billy gasped dramatically.

“I would _never_.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s just, my mom and I have this tradition. Around Christmastime. We, you know. We go to the city, and do dinner, just the two of us. And we. _God_ , it sounds so lame.” Billy pinched his side. Steve pulled his hair in retaliation. “And, _wegototheballet_.” Steve let his head flop onto Billy’s shoulder.

“Stevie, you got mush mouth there at the end.”

“We go to the freakin’ _ballet_ , okay? We go to the ballet!” And Steve was pulling away, his face beet red, his arms wrapped around himself. “We do it every year, and have since I could sit through the fucking thing, and she’s not coming this year. And she said _why don’t you take your girlfriend, Nancy?_ And I don’t know _how many times_ I’ve told her that Nancy and I broke up, but she still just-” he cut himself off shaking his head. “It’s like, I know it’s fucking _lame_ , but it’s my favorite part of Christmas. I look forward to it all damn year and we’re _not going_.”

And the thing on the tip of Billy’s tongue was _Jesus, the fucking ballet, Harrington? Could you be any more of a princess?_

But this is, like, _affecting_ Steve. This is actually taking a fucking toll on him.

And, well, Billy _said_ he’d try to make him feel better.

“So, when is it?”

“When’s _what_?”

“The fucking _ballet_.”

And Steve stared at him.

“Never, apparently. Because she’s having too much fun in Saint-Tropez, and anyway _aren’t you getting a little old for it, Steven?”_ He put on a breathy voice when he imitated his mother, sticking his nose in the air.

“I mean when is it _running,_ numbnuts.”

“All this month. It’s like, Christmas themed. They do it every year.”

“Then _you’re_ in charge of getting tickets.”

And Steve was giving him a look, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you, _suggesting_ , that you, Billy ‘I’m rough and tough and dangerous’ Hargrove, are going to take me to _the ballet_?”

“I’m not _suggesting it_ , shithead. I’m telling you to get fucking tickets, and let me know the date so I can get a nice fucking shirt.”

“You’re _serious_? You’re going to drive with me to the city, and sit there for nearly three hours, and watch the ballet with me.”

“Jesus fuck- _three hours_? God, the shit I do for you.” He scrubbed a hand down his face as Steve, Steve’s face split into a wide smile, the one that makes his nose scrunch up, and he began hopping from foot to foot, bobbing his head.

“Okay. Okay! I’m gonna, I think I can buy them over the phone. I’ll, I’m gonna do it before you have a chance to back out.” He took a step closer to Billy, grabbing his face in one hand, making his cheeks pout, planting a kiss to his lips before zooming off to dig the phone book out of the hall closet.

He was humming away to himself, probably the music from the fucking ballet Billy had resigned himself to seeing, while he pawed through the heavy book, searching for the number of the theater in Indianapolis.

Billy rolled his eyes at Steve’s little outbursts of excitement, tossing himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“You fucking _owe me_. Just, like, by the way. I’m talking blowjobs every day. I’m talking cigarettes. I’m talking homemade dinners.”

“Oh, you mean the shit that I already do because I l-love you, or whatever.” Steve’s face went bright red, and he turned away from Billy, standing in a stunned silence, jamming the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, hi, I’d like to purchase some tickets please.” His voice sounded strained, and he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head.

Billy was stuck fucking _dumb_.

He’s never, fucking _never_ had someone tell him that they _love him_. He thinks maybe his mom did back in the day, but it’s been a long fucking time since he’s felt the slow spread of warmth down his spine that comes with hearing it.

 _Steve loves him_.

Steve was rambling away on the phone, tugging on the phone cord, and tapping his foot maniacally.

Billy doesn’t think he could move.

And eventually, he heard the person on the other end of the line hang up. He registered Steve placing the phone quietly on the hook once again.

He stayed with his back towards Billy.

“Steve.”

He took a deep breath, turning around to face Billy with a big fake smile.

“I got tickets! We’re going on Saturday. So, uh, yeah. If you need to borrow some clothes, it’s, it’s pretty fancy. So, like, uh, yes.” Steve was babbling, his eyes darting between Billy’s left ear and the wall behind him.

“Steve.”

“I got mezzanine seats. That’s where I like to sit, uh, you can see the stage better that way, and they’re usually cheaper. I mean, not that _that’s,_ like, the thing, but, it’s a _bonus_.”

“ _Steve_.”

Steve rolled his lips into his mouth, his leg shaking.

“Can we, like, _not_ talk about it?”

“I feel like we should, though.”

“I don’t, wanna.”

Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He should be, like, _sweet_ for this conversation. Or something. Adjacent to it.

“At least, did you mean it? What you said?”

Steve bit his bottom lip.

“ _Yeah_.”

“Good. I mean. I liked, liked hearing it. And, uh, me too. You know. Uno reverse.” Billy gestured like he was putting a card down between them. Steve gave him a blank stare.

“Did you just, _Uno reverse_ my confession of love? Is that _seriously_ what just happened?”

“Well, like-” the thing is, it’s a _big_ fucking word. And he doesn’t think he can actually, like, _say it_ to Steve. But, he feels it. He _definitely_ feels it. Like, _fuck_ , he’s going to the goddamn _ballet_ for this fucker. _Obviously_ , there’s some big fucking feelings there. “What you feel. Is also. What I feel.”

“Oh. Good, then. Yeah. Good.” Steve looked around the room. “Should we, like, shake on it?”

“ _Shake on it_? Steve, fucking Hell. Just _come here_.” He reached out, looping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops, tugging him into his arms. And Steve stumbled forward, crashing with very little grace into Billy.

He sighed as Billy kissed him, a sloppy, _desperate_ kiss. A kiss that Billy tried to shove every word he couldn’t say into Steve’s brain the same way he shoved his tongue into Steve’s mouth.

And when they broke apart, Steve began humming, grinning wildly.

And Billy figured the song was from the fucking _ballet_ he had agreed to see with Steve. Which he can’t stress enough, the fact that he is going to see a goddamn, motherfucking _ballet_ just to make his favorite person happy, that’s as close as Billy can possibly come to a declaration of devotion at this point in his life.

But Steve pulled out a brightly decorated record from his family’s collection, explaining that the ballet had many different iterations, but all choreographed to the same compilation of music, and apparently, this was enough for him.

To have Billy hold him while he talked for hours about the story of the ballet, the history of it, the music the costumes he likes, _everything_ , maybe it was okay that Billy couldn’t say the words. Maybe it was okay that he was there, that he did the things Steve liked just to see him smile.

Billy’s never been enough for anyone.

But then again, neither has Steve.

(And when they _finally_ see the show, it’s the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen in his life. They go once more before the run is closed and establish a new tradition together.)


End file.
